


What Lies Beneath

by Enigma_code_1



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigma_code_1/pseuds/Enigma_code_1
Summary: Joan's a girl, Sherlock's a boy.This is the story of a girl, who spent her whole life building an ordinary facade to cover up the crazy ass life (sorry summary shall improve).





	What Lies Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> So..  
> This is my first fic, please comment if any changes are required. I will be a bit dark-ish

"Ooh, what a common name, Joan Watson, I mean, don't get me wrong, but it's not something that sticks in your head at first notice." 

That wasn't the first time someone said that to her and she was already only 8. She kept wondering how people tended to behave in the same manner, no matter where they were or for that matter who they were, whether they were her classmates in the boring school that she went to because she was supposed to to her mother's colleagues. As she grew older she began to use this to her advantage, if people were going to overlook her, she'd let them because it was easier to present an ordinary front, just like her name, that actually tell people that she was no ordinary John Doe. The problem with this was the fact that after some time, she began believing in her own lie. It became even more difficult to open up to people. And the one thing she could never fake indefinitely was being ordinary, because Joan Coraline Watson was anything but ordinary.

So if we start this story, we begin with her best friend, a certain mister Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes.

Or rather William Sherlock Scott Holmes 

That did come as a shocker, firstly because he never seemed to be a 'William', Sherlock fitted him better. Though she did understand why he'd rater be called Sherlock, he was brought up in posh society Britain, if you were to throw there, chances are it would hit a William. 

....  
....  
....

" Joan, Joan, Joan"  
"Earth to Joan, Joan"

"Joan."

Joan was suddenly brought back to reality, she was in her therapist's place and caught redhanded day dreaming. Day dreaming, it was a rare luxury in her youth and even when she was a surgeon, but now she constantly found herself drifting away from reality. It wasn't always a problem, her day dreaming habits, she made it a point never to do it while working with Sherlock, Lestrade, Mycroft (Though this was usually in order to seize whatever chance she could to counter the older Holme's constant interference with her own snark) and while at work at the clinic, though her resolve has been crumbling of late. She could't pin point the reason why. Maybe it was the whole my-husband-was-a-world-class-assassin-and-I-did'y-know-it issue or the whole my-husband-was-a-world-class-assassin-and-tried-to-kill-my-best-friend issue or the whole dead baby issue.

Oh.

That was why she was at the therapist, her baby was dead. Dead Baby. Stillborn. Whatever. 

She was supposed to feel something, her baby was dead. Dead as a door nail as Charles Dickens would say or rather try to say. 

Any ways, the therapist. She was at the therapist because her baby was dead? No. She was there because of "deep rooted psychological issues that have been probably exacerbated by the untimely death of her unborn child and her husband", the cover story. The story that was on her psychiatrist's chart. 

Joan exhaled visibly, of course this wasn't her therapist, she'd recently graduated from a therapist to a psychiatrist, courtesy Les Frères Holmes.

"Joan, its been 15 minutes since the beginning of this session and you haven't spoken", the Psychiatrist Dr. Clark Rhoddenmier informed her, "You have to speak, to solve something we need to know the root cause. So lets start, Joan, tell me about yourself"

Joan sat there, Dr. Rhoddenmier, was a 70 odd year old, he was patient and came with direct commendations from Mycroft, so he must've been good in his heyday. She sat there, biting her upper lip racking her brain, what should she say, she definitly should've slept the previous night she could feel a yawn blooming and that would mean Rhoddenmier guessing that she wasn't that keen on sleeping, now or for that matter ever. 

"Well... My name is Joan. I'm 37 years old. I'm currently practicing as a GP but I used to be a surgeon."

"Okay Joan, now tell me why you're here."

"Because 'some' people believe that I want to kill myself due to the string of bad things that have happened to me in the last year"

"No, I'm asking you, Joan, why are you here"

"I just told you why I'm here, what else do you want me to say"

"Joan, if that were the case, that would mean you didn't come here on your own free will. But then you should've kicked up a fuss, which you didn't"

"And you would know that because..."

"I'm a good friend of Mycroft."

"I see, you you constantly use blackmail with all your patients or am I special because of my connection to the Holmes?"

"Joan, if it weren't for your connection to the Holmes', you wouldn't know that I existed at all"

"I take it you aren't actually Dr. Clark Rhoddenmier"

"Yes, I'm not Clark Rhoddenmier, but I am a doctor, one who is very much interested in helping you"

Joan signed, she wasn't surprised. She wasn't surprised anymore, at anything. She guessed living her life would do that to anyone, marrying an assassin tended to be a high standard for any future surprise to live up to.

"What makes you think I tried to kill myself?"

"Joan, as you said earlier, many of the people around you believe that you are suicidal and if a patient of mine is surrounded by some of the most observant people in the world, then I'd take that observation seriously"

"I drowned in a Thames, midnight in winter. Thats not really the most effective way to kill oneself. I mean, there are so many ways for people to revive you. There's hypothermia, I mean, drowning the way I did wasn't, I mean I was pushed into the river by a very strong person who did hit me on my head. Anyways, if I were suicidal, I'd slit my wrists or my juggular, that's way more efficient that permanent."

Dr. Clark stared at her intently, and she knew that wasn't a good sign.

" Joan, why are you so intent to teaching me about the efficiency of committing suicide?"

Joan Shook her head, this was one long conversation, "I wasn't trying to kill myself that day, why is everyone and you so intent on proving that I was? Why is everyone so keen on labelling me as suicidal"

"I never said you were, you said you were"

"No I didn't, my chart says that thats what the people around me feel about me. I'm merely defending my actions. Stop calling me suicidal."

"Joan, I'm not calling you suicidal, I'm just saying you're someone who's not too keen on staying alive"

**Author's Note:**

> So John's a girl, since It's my first fic as I said earlier I wanted to stick to my comfort zone, If anyone wants to make changes please do tell.


End file.
